Inspection
by Rynn Abhorsen
Summary: The relationship that had begun at a simple dinner was kept secret, for reasons neither gave voice to. Sara had once been told that love made things simpler, but she and Nick were quickly disproving that opinion. NickSara
1. Inspection

**Pairing: **Nick/Sara (get used to it people, I'm a shipper)

**Rating: **This is an M for sexual activities, don't read if it bothers you.

**A/N: **Sadly, this probably isn't as graphic as some of you would like. It does have a nekkid Nick and Sara, though. And I think you'd agree, a naked Nick and Sara is enough.

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Inspection

When the doorbell rang Sara raised her head from the close inspection of the kitchen table almost too quickly, almost too eagerly. She didn't know what had possessed her to ask him over earlier that day. It was a fleeting moment of courage, she decided, for none of it remained now.

After her forced leave of absence, Sara had taken up cooking. It was therapeutic to come home and make whatever you wanted, even if it meant cleaning up dishes. It gave her control over a small part of her life, which she liked. He, the man at her door, had been a driving force in her pursuit of a hobby outside of work, and it was with the intent of thanking him that she had asked him to come to dinner.

Well, and the intent to test the waters. Sara Sidle knew how to tease, though she very rarely employed it. She would do so tonight and see if he was receptive. Her attraction to him had only recently flared into life, though it had smoldered for the four and a half years they had known one another. In a moment of clarity, Sara decided that if she didn't act on her feelings, she never would. His reaction would then determine the course of the rest of dinner.

Her sparse apartment had been much changed since her DUI. She had added more color, more life to it in an effort to make her work stay at work. Candles were burning on the kitchen counter and the coffee table, which caused a tendril of nervousness to unfurl in her stomach. _Calm down, Sidle,_ she told herself, _you light candles all the time!_

Her attempted reassurance didn't do much, but she answered the door anyway. "Hey, Nick."

The million-watt smile that was his trademark flashed in her direction, fortifying her resolve. "Hey, yourself." He replied, his Texan drawl causing a shiver to run down Sara's spine. "Oh," he said, pulling out some flowers from behind his back, "I brought you these."

A small blush painted Sara's cheeks as she murmured "thanks" before opening the door wider, allowing him access. Taking the bouquet of daylilies from Nick's hand she turned and closed the door.

It took her a minute to find a vase, but after doing so she set the flowers on her kitchen counter, giving Nick a smile. "You really didn't have to bring these, you know."

"Oh, I know, but since you're feeding me I figured it was the least I could do."

Sara raised an eyebrow, "considering how much you eat I'm starting to see your side."

He feigned a hurt expression in response before brightening, "so, what did you make?"

Sara turned back to the kitchen and flashed Nick a grin. "Garlic bread, tossed salad, linguine with cream sauce, and a chocolate torte for dessert."

"Damn, Sara, when did you start cooking?"

She gave a flippant reply, "about an hour ago." She bent down in front of him to fish a bottle of wine out from the refrigerator, giving her male coworker a nice view of the cleavage that her black, sleeveless top did little to hide. Straightening she said, "you want some wine?"

He nodded mutely, which Sara took as a good sign. To reach the wine glasses she had to stretch, and she did. This, she knew, caused her shirt to ride up slightly, exposing her midriff. Nick stared, transfixed and confident in the fact that her eyes were solely focused on the glasses and not on his blatant appreciation of her form. However, he couldn't stop a small exclamation as he saw a glint of silver on Sara's abdomen. "You have your belly button pierced?"

"What?" she replied, voice still muffled by the cabinets. However, Nick couldn't see the triumphant smile that washed over her face. "Oh," she said, putting the glasses on the counter, "yeah. I got it pierced when I was seventeen. It's a silver stud right now, but I've got other jewelry for it. Do you like it?"

Gaining a bit of his flirtatious bravado back Nick replied, "Oh I don't know, I might need a closer inspection of the jewelry at hand."

She matched him with a comment of her own. "Play your cards right and you just might get that inspection, Stokes."

The prospect of that alone caused Nick's lungs and heart to stop functioning for a moment as he thought of all of the ways in which that inspection could take place.

"Nick…Niiick…Nick!"

"Huh?"

"You want your wine?" Sara was giving him a confident little smile as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking. Taking the glass from her fingers he moved to the table and the plate of food that she placed in front of him. From there, all he could think of was the meal.

After eating and light conversation, Nick gained a wicked glint in his eyes. Sara noticed this over the rim of her wineglass, giving a small smile as she did so. Her voice was mockingly innocent, "what?"

"So," said Nick, leaning forward, "got any other piercings I should know about?"

She set her wine glass down and cocked her head to one side. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not I can trust you to keep a secret."

He was struck dumb, giving her a little nod since he didn't trust his voice. "Alright," she said, taking another sip of her wine before continuing. "I have my tongue pierced, but I wear a skin-colored stud in it during work hours so I won't get fired. My ears are pierced twice, too."

Nick, hearing the words "tongue" and "pierced" together exiting from Sara's lips, quickly dove into the carnal sections of fantasy. Trying to shake himself out of it he managed to get out, "your…your tongue?"

She gave him a little smile. "Yeah. You want to see?" Not waiting for an answer she stuck out the pink appendage, displaying a silver barbell. Considering Nick's uncomfortable state, Sara leaned back in triumph. Things were going well.

"Uhh…anything else?"

"Nooo…" she said in a tone that implied that there was.

"You're a bad liar, Sidle."

She raised her hands in a defensive gesture. "Fine, fine. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have any other piercings, though."

"Oh, so you have a third leg," Nick quipped in an effort to relieve the sexual tension that was quickly building through their combined effort. He wasn't exactly sure when this simple dinner had stopped being simple. But then again, maybe it never was. He couldn't deny how excited he was to spend an evening alone with Sara, but it never even occurred to him that she would reciprocate those feelings.

"Nope," she replied, "no third leg. I do have tattoos."

His throat became painfully dry as he swallowed. If there were tattoos that he hadn't noticed in all the four and a half years of working with her, then they must be…he didn't want to finish that thought, but his mind did anyway. They must be underneath her clothes. That thought alone was enough to send most of the blood allowing him rational thought down south.

"How…how many tattoos?"

"Three."

Sara pushed her chair back from the table and walked gracefully over to him. Nick crossed his legs in response, trying his best to prevent his painfully aroused state from being noticed. Leaning in front of him, once again exposing cleavage, Sara looked him brazenly in the eyes. The rational Sara was wondering where the hell all this courage was coming from, even as she leaned even closer to Nick's face. Placing her mouth near his ear she whispered sweetly, "you want that inspection now, Cowboy?"

There was just a moment when Sara's heart leapt to her throat, worrying he might reject her, but it was silenced as he pushed the chair back, grabbed her by the waist and set her on his lap in one smooth motion. When Sara came in contact with his arousal she gave a little whimper, her tongue sweeping out to savor the last drop of wine that lingered on her lower lip. Nick stared, openmouthed, as the sinuous organ made a quick pass over her beautiful, seductive lips. She swallowed, the thin column of her throat constricting, and it was the single most erotic moment in his life.

Straddling him, Sara looked into his passionate brown gaze and murmured, "Are you going to stare or get your mind out of the gutter and kiss me?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said in reply, "I think the gutter is right where my mind belongs thanks to you, Sar."

Giving a small laugh Sara simply closed the distance between them, her lips coming into contact with his in a sweet, chaste kiss, their first. It didn't take that long for that to end though, as she opened her mouth, inviting him to deepen it. He did so, and as she swept her tongue through his mouth he caught the little stud of silver there between his teeth, sucking on it lightly. Her eyes flew shut, a sure sign of pleasure, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Scooting back onto the table, pushing plates off of the surface and onto the floor, Sara lifted her black top over her head, exposing a lacy bra of the same color.

Releasing her hold on his mouth for a moment she said dryly, "I remembered that when I asked you if you preferred leather or lace, you went for the latter."

"I think I'd like anything on you, Sara," was his reply as he stood from the table and took in her form, "though the end result of you getting out of it is always the same."

Sucking in his breath, Nick wondered if he had overstepped some boundary, though the lust-filled section of his brain reasoned that if Sara was sitting here in a bra and jeans then there couldn't be that many in the first place. She simply stepped off the table and began to walk down the hallway, giving him a little glance over her shoulder as he followed right behind her.

Something in Nick's mind said that this would be one inspection he enjoyed performing.

Nick had never been in Sara's bedroom before, but curiosity had been his companion for a long while. The room was dark, a few candles burning on her bedside table. There was a scent that pervaded the room, an earthy, sexy smell that would always bring images of Sara to his mind.

"It's sandalwood," she murmured from her cross-legged pose on the bed, the luminous globes of her almost exposed breasts like ivory in the dark. Nick swallowed once before continuing towards her, coming to stand at the foot of her bed. His voice was low, intimate, "I never thought you were one for tattoos or piercings, Sara, but then again it seems like I was wrong about lots of things."

She crawled forward on the bed until she was even with him on the mattress. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like when I thought that there was no way in hell that you'd seduce me. Like when I figured you weren't one for being dominant in a relationship. Like when I thought you would never return my feelings."

Pausing, he tentatively extended one finger, running it along Sara's collarbone, stopping at the sternum before continuing down to her breast. It was like ivory, smooth and just waiting to be lavished with touch, with fingers and mouth. The gentleness, the worshipful gaze he gave her, was enough to bring Sara to tears. She kissed his neck where it met his shoulder before saying huskily, "this isn't a time for what either of us thought."

And she, being Sara, was right. She gripped his biceps, pulling him back onto her bed, onto the satin comforter she had bought. Her almost bare back against the sensuous fabric was a new feeling for Sara and she shivered, arching towards Nick. Giving a little whine in frustration she began fingering at the buttons of his shirt, though her normally nimble fingers were fumbling in the dark.

"One second," she breathed before reaching over to her bedside lamp, turning it on. She thanked her lucky stars that the light she had bought wasn't very bright, so it didn't detract from the romance of the current scene. Now able to see, she made quick work of Nick's shirt, though she had to stop every once in a while when Nick's mouth would touch an especially sensitive patch of skin. Pushing her back, Nick kissed her, openmouthed and hungry, clutching the silver stud in her tongue again before trailing a burning path down to her belly button and performing the same torture on the piercing there.

"You know," she whispered lowly as he made another path of kisses back up her abdomen, "piercings make the skin around them especially sensitive. It stimulates the nerve endings."

"Hmm," was Nick's reply as he kissed the hammering pulse in her neck, his hand slipping between them in an effort to undo her jeans. Failing, he gave a noise of irritation, causing a little giggle from Sara. "Seeing as you can't even unfasten my pants, Greg must have exaggerated your reputation as a 'ladies man'."

"That's dangerous territory there, Sidle. You're going to force me to prove you wrong."

"Please?"

He silenced her with a rough, bruising kiss, distracting her while he, now suitably motivated, made quick work of her jeans. Flipping them over and now on top, Sara looked him in the eyes and said, "Jeans. Off. Now."

"A bit pushy aren't we?"

She gave him the look that he had learned meant she was going to do something very un-Sara like before saying, "It's you who should be pushing, now get your goddamn jeans off."

He complied, deciding to skip the next step and pushing off his boxers in the same motion. Sara, still straddling him, reached over and pulled a condom from her bedside table. Seeing his look of almost indignation she whispered, "I bought it awhile ago. I haven't been with anybody since I came to Vegas."

Her look of embarrassment caused love for her to surge in Nick's veins and he craned his neck to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. As it ended, both of them breathing heavily, he murmured, "You said something about tattoos?"

Placing her hands on his well-muscled chest she replied, "one's on my foot. The other two will require the removal of more clothing to find."

She leaned down to kiss him and as she did so he undid her bra, the lacy garment falling loose on her shoulders before she removed it and flung it away. There, he spotted one on her left shoulder, a phoenix in red and gold. He traced it with one finger and she shivered before whispering, "I got it after my DUI, after I got over Grissom. It represents going through the darkness and being reborn. Seemed appropriate at the time."

He pressed a kiss there, solely focused on the taste of Sara. He felt sure at that moment that there would never be enough opportunities for him to savor the essence of the woman he loved. Retracting his mouth from her flushed skin he realized that, while he was preoccupied, Sara had divested herself of the last article of clothing, her panties. Now that they were both naked, Nick noticed the last tattoo, a Chinese symbol below her right hipbone. "It means 'love'," she said quietly, still sitting atop him, "and now that the scavenger hunt for my tattoos has ended, are we going to get to business?"

Giving a laugh, Nick rolled her over and lay atop her, quipping, "I was wondering when you would ask."

The next morning, sitting at her kitchen table eating breakfast, Sara asked, "So, Nick, did I pass inspection?"

"With flying colors, Sar, with flying colors."

* * *

**A/N: **Now that you've made it through that, I have a question to pose. I've got three chapters written to follow this, but it also works really well as a one-shot. If you've got a preference, I would love to know either through review or email. 


	2. Revelation

A/N: This chapter is slightly shorter than the last, but since "Inspection" was intended to be a one-shot I suppose it makes sense. Anyway, a thousand "thank you"'s to the reviewers, though since there were so many that it would take an entirely new chapter just to reply to all of you! Though, don't think I'm complaining, it was lovely.

And now, onto the story.

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"**Revelation"**

It was another day at work, another shift of staring at the last vestiges of human life, and yet Sara couldn't stop smiling as she walked into the lab. Some of the night shift had assembled, all going through their rituals. Catherine was reading this morning's newspaper, her light eyes furiously scanning the front page. Greg had his feet propped on the table and appeared to be reading a magazine of some kind. And Nick…well, Sara tried to keep her smile from stretching clear off of her face when she saw the loving look he was giving her. The radiant happiness that spilled from his gorgeous, dark eyes was meant for her alone, and she knew it. He was sprawled out on the couch, and Sara tried hard to keep her mind from simply filling in the spaces of his body, sans clothing.

Greg looked up from his comic book in time to see his mentor wander into the break room with her posture relaxed and a small grin on her face. He, having been around Sara long enough to be acquainted with her moods and facades, knew this smile was sincere. Sara was a talented actress when it came to telling people she was fine, when necessity caused her to convince people that this or that case wasn't getting to her, but Sara couldn't fake a smile. The lab-technician-turned-CSI knew that the glint of satisfaction on Sara's face could not be manufactured. Giving her a smirk he said, "somebody had an good night…"

She stilled, face hidden behind a pane of dark hair, before shrugging and leaning against the counter. Ignoring Nick's look of private victory, one she was minded to share, she turned to face Greg. Jutting her chin out obstinately she said, "So what if I did?"

"Who is he?"

Warrick chose this moment to enter the break room, saying, "Who's who?"

Greg threw him a glance. "Sara's boyfriend."

"You've got a boyfriend?"

Warrick's eyes were a little wider than Sara would have liked, and she said, "Is it so unfeasible to you that I can have a fulfilling relationship?"

"No-" He fumbled in response, "I mean, it's just-"

Sara cut him off with the finality of a knife blade. "I had a good night, yes, and that's all I'm going to say."

Greg, looking affronted, began, "but-"

"No."

"I mean-"

"No."

"Wait-"

"NO, Greg."

Walking in with his nose buried in case files, Grissom handed out assignments and that was the last anyone heard of Sara's new boyfriend for the night.

When shift ended, Sara leaned her forehead on her locker, yawning at the sudden onset of tiredness. The current case was relatively easy when it came to cause of death and possible suspects, but the scene itself was a total mess. The body of a young Asian female had been found bludgeoned and then hacked up on the roof of a hotel. Just finding all of the pieces had taken over three hours. Sara's job, however, had been considerably shortened when the victim's boyfriend, just coming off of a PCP high, had been found in a ditch a few miles south of the crime scene coated in blood. Now that she was alone in the locker room, Sara felt the adrenaline rush that had sustained her slowly dissipating.

"I left my wallet at your house." Nick's strong arms wrapped around Sara's hips and she tilted into his embrace, enveloping herself in the scent of his aftershave. Leaning her head back onto his shoulder, Sara sighed with tiredness. He pressed a kiss to her throat before mumbling against her skin, "you wanna' get some breakfast?"

She gave a short nod, closed her locker, and they exited the building with all the appearance of simple colleagues. That, however, stopped as soon as they reached the restaurant. Sara refused to break skin-to-skin contact with Nick, pressing the length of her thigh flush against his while they sat next to each other in the booth.

"So," said Nick, draining the last of his coffee, "dinner at your house was wonderful."

Sara blushed. "Thanks. I enjoyed myself, too."

Nick leaned closer to her and whispered conspiratorially, "I especially liked the part where you were naked."

The tide of crimson of Sara's cheeks seeped higher up before she replied, "feeling's mutual."

"So, Sara…" Nick began, giving her a sidelong glance out of the corner of his gaze, "how are things going to be? Between us, I mean."

She visibly stiffened, turning to look him in the eyes. Her gaze was honest and fragile and feminine and sad. "How do you want things to be?"

Seeing that she had interpreted his question as an attempt to end their just-budding relationship, Nick backpedaled with unmatched speed. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I just wanted to know if that was a 'one night stand' sort of thing, or a 'let's remain friends but have sex' thing."

He trailed off, seeing a grimace of pain flash across Sara's face. Obviously she had heard this speech before. Her gaze dropped to the table and she bit her lower lip in nervousness and anxiety. "Sara," he murmured, tilting her chin up with one index finger, "Sara, look at me."

She complied, though her beautiful brown eyes were swimming behind a sea of salty, acidic tears. "I really care about you, Sara. I care about you more than anybody else in the lab, and not in a 'let's be friends way', either. What happened was wonderful and amazing and quite possibly the best sex I've ever had. It meant something to me, and I just hope it meant something to you, too."

She kissed him then, the sweetness of her lips and the salt of her tears mixing together in a booth in a diner in Las Vegas. Nick responded, kissing her back and when it ended, wrapping her arms around her, pressing his forehead to hers. "It meant worlds to me, Nicky," she whispered, "I'm glad it meant the same to you."

It was then that Nick Stokes knew that his life, like a leaf swept up in the beautiful, freeing wind that was Sara Sidle, would never be the same again.

He walked her to her car, one arm wrapped loosely around her hips. It felt completely normal for it to be that way, like they were simply meant to be around one another. A simple kiss was all he had in mind for a parting gift of sorts, but the confident Sara he only saw glimpses of had other ideas. Pressing her back to the smooth, cool exterior of the car she gripped his head and brought his lips savagely to meet hers. That was not to say that he refused the meeting of course, as he responded with vigor, leaning in and supporting his weight on the side panel of the car.

As the need for oxygen overrode passion, Sara gasped against his shoulder, her lips imprinted on the fabric of his t-shirt. "God, Nick…" she whispered breathily while he pressed insistent, feverish kisses to her throat. "God…" Her arms went around him, holding onto the sleeves of his shirt like letting go would mean she would totally lose control over her desires.

Nick chuckled in the crook of her neck, mumbling against her skin. "I trust you're enjoying yourself."

Snaking out his tongue he traced a line from the smooth, ivory curve of her shoulder down to the collarbone, satisfied when she jerked against him involuntarily. His grin grew, and Sara gave a little whimper. "Not fair," she breathed, "you get too much control. Not fa-"

She was cut off when he opened the driver's side door and, picking her up bodily, deposited her in the car with Sara sitting in the seat of the cab and her legs loosely entwined about his narrow waist. Unsatisfied with this arrangement she gripped his shoulders and forced him down, the worn, blue denim the shielded his knees colliding with parking lot pavement. Sara ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck, her nails scraping against his skin. He shivered in response and she kissed him, hard. Pulling away with a flushed countenance and kiss-swollen lips she looked him in the eyes and said with demand flooding her form, "Nick. My Place. Ten Minutes."

He laughed even as he tried to regain his breath from her mind-numbing assault on his lips. "Am I…to understand…" he panted, his hands coming to rest possessively on her hips, "that every time you speak in fragmented sentences it means you want sex?"

"That depends," she replied, raking her fingers over the taut muscles of his back, apparent beneath the faded cotton of his shirt, "does using them work?"

He gave a heaving breath. "Every time."

**

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**A/N:** As always, reviews are wonderful and make my monotonous days worth living. They also inspire me, and seeing as I've got three more chapters written with no real ending in sight, inspiration is good!

The next chapter is entitled "Consumption."


	3. Consumption

**A/N: **My love for you all (or y'all, considering I do live in Dallas, Texas) grows each day. This chapter is a soft R, folks. It could probably pass as PG-13, though. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy it.

* * *

"**Consumption"**

It was a miracle; that was the only explanation. She, Sara Sidle, was totally and completely in love with the most wonderful man and he was in love with her. The relationship that had begun eight months ago still remained a secret, despite the couple's quite obvious affection for one another.

It was moments like these that Sara thanked each of her lucky stars individually and by name. Moments when she woke up to find his arms wrapped securely around her waist, a finger or two tracing the tattoo on her hip, the one he had discovered the first time they made love. Eight months had passed, eight months that Sara believed eclipsed all positive experiences in the 34 years before them. All of the sadness and the pain in her life were made insignificant by the beauty that was the man sleeping beside her. He slowly stirred into wakefulness; giving her a grin and speaking in his sleep-laced voice, "mornin' beautiful."

She gave him a smile in response before kissing him. That might have led to other activities, activities the two of them had joyously partaken in the past months, had the ringing of Sara's cell phone not stopped Sara's lips from placing a kiss on Nick's bared chest. Groaning, she rolled off of him and picked it up, her voice still husky with drowsy satisfaction, "hello?"

Listening for a moment, nodding, she clicked the phone shut before collapsing back onto her lover's body. Drawing nonsense patterns on his skin she murmured, "they need me at work. I expect you'll be getting called in shortly, too."

The ringing of Nick's cell phone punctuated that remark and he winced before sighing in resignation and picking it up. The conversation was simple, a matter of a "yes" and "see you soon."

Dropping his head back onto the pillow he sighed heavily before flashing her a smile. "You know, Sar," he said, "you'd think that, them being CSI's and all, they'd have figured it out by now."

"Mmm," she nodded in agreement, still laying atop his chest as his fingers roamed through her dark locks, "you have been living here for what, three months? Ah…" she let out a rapturous moan when Nick's hand ventured lower, outlining the phoenix tattoo on her shoulder. "I guess it's good," she continued, "that they only call us on our cells. If they tried the home phone, we wouldn't know if they were calling you or me."

He chuckled deep in his chest, making the chiseled plain vibrate underneath Sara's cheek. "And here I thought that the change of address form was a dead giveaway."

Rolling off of him, Sara began to rifle through the pile of clothing on their bedroom floor. Casting him a glance over her shoulder she replied, "Grissom signed off on it, and you know he isn't all that observant when it comes to human emotion."

Stretching, Nick extricated himself from the bed and pulled on a shirt. "Yeah, but Catherine, Warrick, and Greg?"

"Maybe we're just good actors," Sara mumbled before tossing Nick's jeans over her shoulder. He caught them with ease and pulled them on, trying to stop the niggling thought that had suddenly gripped his mind. Why _were_ they keeping their relationship a secret? He loved her and he was pretty sure she loved him, so what was the purpose of keeping it hidden? After all, Nick really wanted to let the whole world know that his girlfriend was the most wonderful, beautiful, intelligent creature on Earth's surface.

He wondered if Sara felt the same way but wouldn't talk to him about it. The idea was plausible, he knew. Sara was very self-conscious when it came to her body, her emotions, and her love life. Perhaps she felt he was somehow ashamed of her and would let him be with her even if he didn't acknowledge their relationship. She was masochistic like that sometimes. There had been Hank, who used her as a mistress, and Grissom, who had manipulated her. They had shattered Sara's image of self-worth, causing her to accept far less than she deserved.

Nick's voice was quiet when he called her name, "hey, Sara?"

She turned, clad in her shoes, jeans, and the white lace bra she knew he liked. "Yeah, Nick?"

"Why do we keep 'this'…" he gestured to himself and then her, finishing with the apartment they shared, "I mean, 'us' a secret?"

"I dunno, I guess I was just a bit insecure about letting the whole team know we were together. Plus, Grissom probably wouldn't be happy about it."

"Screw Grissom," Nick said, turning to tie his shoes.

"No thanks, Nick. I have much more fun screwing you."

The small bit of anger he had felt dissipated at Sara's completely un-CSI comment. He was the only person she revealed this side of herself to, the Sara Sidle that every once in a while would make a lewd comment, the Sara Sidle that could cry or laugh until she was sick. That Sara. His Sara.

Even if they weren't totally ready to let the whole world know about their relationship, this was enough.

* * *

Halloween was a terrible time to be a CSI, Nick thought soberly as he slammed shut his locker. The holiday that was all about candy and costumes was almost always perverted into something sinister, even more so in Las Vegas.

His current case was a group of teenagers who had banded together to wrap the house of a social outcast at their school. The bend of delinquents had even dressed in complete costume, though the black ensembles they sported would be their downfall. On the front patio of the house they were set on festooning with toilet paper a party was going on, one that involved a very inebriated man. In his drunken state the individual had pulled a gun from his genie costume and began brandishing it around.

The pranksters had hidden across the street, shielding by the trees. In their black outfits the partygoers had not seen them, least of all the drunken wielder of the gun. However, Nick thought they could have been dressed in day-glo and it wouldn't have made a difference. Four shots rang out and three of the teenagers died.

Some days Nick wondered why kids lived in Vegas at all, seeing as the whole city seemed to conspire to end their lives before they began. The culprit was now sitting in the interrogation room, subject to Brass's unforgiving questions.

Exiting the building and climbing into his car, Nick drove the now familiar route to his shared apartment with Sara. Climbing the stairs he opened the door to reveal the comforting interior. His girlfriend had the night off, though she had refused to reveal to him the reason. Opening the door he called out, "Sara?"

"In the kitchen, Nick."

She was, poring over something in a saucepan on the stove. The aroma was delicious, and Nick's mouth began to salivate. "What are you cooking, Sar?"

She gave him a wicked smile. "None of your business. How was work?"

"Ugh." He made a face to show his distaste and she walked forward, giving him a hug in an effort to comfort him. Kissing his neck, she said, "I bought some stuff at the store today."

"Oh, really?" asked Nick, knowing the evil glint in Sara's eyes well.

"Yesss…" she said, pulling him forward to look at the bubbling concoction on the stove. "It's fudge sauce," she whispered huskily into his ear, "I bought caramel sauce and whipped cream, too. No boy, least of all you, Nicky, should be without candy on Halloween."

His played along, feigning ignorance, "and where are we going to place these sauces, Miss Sidle?"

"Why Nicky," she said, pouring the fudge into a bowl, "Wherever you like."

Grabbing his free hand, she submerged the tips in warm chocolate. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she brought the digits to her lips, ridding them of the russet concoction with her teeth, lips, tongue, and the silver stud therein. Shedding her clothing on the way, she carried the dessert products into the bedroom with Nick hot on her heels.

* * *

The next morning, Nick woke to Sara's soft humming as she washed the last of the chocolate out of her hair in the shower. While he had been sleeping, it seemed she had also sponged the whipped cream off of the wall where it had landed during their…activities.

She exited the bathroom a few minutes later, wrapped in a white terrycloth towel and still humming with satisfaction. She bent over to rummage through a couple of drawers, exposing the dark, purplish bruise on her shoulder that Nick had created the night before. She pulled a light green tank top from the dresser and looked at it with contemplation.

"You know," Nick said from his lazy position on the sheets, "If you wear that then everybody will see your tattoo, and they're also bound to notice that monster hickey on your shoulder."

She turned and gave him a grin. "Given the fact that they still haven't noticed we're together, I wouldn't be so sure. And besides, even if they do notice the 'monster hickey,' all they'll know is that I had great sex last night, which I did."

The rest of her reply hung still unspoken in the air. She was wearing a tank top, the silence seemed to say, because she was proud of the marks he had put on her, of the claim he had on her body and heart. Placing his hands behind his head, Nick smiled, though it was wiped from his face as he shot up in bed. "Shit!"

Sara was by him in a moment, her jeans only half on and unbuttoned. "What?"

His gaze was heartsick, "we forgot a condom."

Involuntarily his eyes drifted to Sara's stomach, the same stomach he had licked clean of caramel the night before, while images of that beautiful surface distended with pregnancy filled his head.

Sara was agape, her shirt slipping down one shoulder haphazardly. "Holy shit, we did, didn't we?"

He nodded mutely and Sara fell onto the bed with a 'thunk.'

"Uh…Nick, what do we do?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

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**A/N: **Oh yes, I fully acknowledge that I am evil. However, I shall endeavor to get the next chapter, entitled "Abstraction," up soon. Thank you for reading! 


	4. Abstraction

Thanks for all of your reviews, everybody. I hope you enjoy today's chapter.

And now, a quick note to one reviewer, an anonymous once by the name of **Maria**. I took your request into consideration, and though I was hesitant about having to rewrite the three chapters I had already prepared, your words struck true. So, Maria, feel accomplished in the fact that you've altered two of the three chapters I had written. All in all, I feel them to be much improved.

* * *

**"Abstraction"**

Nick Stokes was not naïve when it came to women. After all, he had grown up in a home dominated by older sisters and his mother, given the fact that his father was always at work. He had been scarred forever as a young boy when his mother had decided to give him the 'facts of life' talk. And he believed the damage to be irreparable when he found a sister's feminine hygiene product anywhere near him as a child.

Nick Stokes was no stuttering teenage boy on his first date, hoping to score. He knew what Sara liked, knew when she wanted him and when she didn't. He, through his love for her, had become closely attuned to her moods, knowing all of the signs that his normally stoic girlfriend used to signal a shift in emotion.

As much like a presidential campaign slogan gone awry as it sounded, Nick Stokes knew women.

But for the life of him, Nick Stokes could not understand Sara's silence. It was the morning after Halloween, after they had forgotten protection. The other women Nick had been with, in the time before he had fallen for Sara, had been on birth control but the chemicals in those little pills wreaked havoc on his girlfriend's body, both physically and emotionally. So, they were screwed, figuratively of course.

Sara hadn't been cold to him, still warm and happy and smiling, but she refused to discuss the subject. Nick found it a bit frustrating, to be honest. Sara was a smart woman, and if she ended up pregnant then she simply couldn't blame her substantial weight gain on too much snack food.

But that would require Sara to have taken a pregnancy test.

Which, of course, she refused to do.

Instead he woke to find her hastily pulling on her jeans, slipping some shoes on her feet. It the few moments it took for him to stir awake and sit up she had already buttoned up her shirt, striding briskly out of the room with keys in one hand and purse in the other. Her cell phone, of course, was left on the side table next to the door, preventing him from reaching her. "Sara?" He called, to be answered with the slam of the front door.

"Women," he sighed before falling back to the mattress.

His mind refused to shut down, solely focused on the 'us' that Nick cherished, the 'us' that could possibly be three people instead of two. Nick wanted kids, yes, and he wanted kids with Sara. But did that make this any less nerve-racking? No, he thought as he tried in vain to slow his heartbeat; he was still totally freaked out.

True, he was 34, and that wasn't a bad age to start a family. He was with a woman he loved unconditionally, and that definitely set them apart from lots of other couples in Vegas who were expecting a baby. It seemed so surreal, though, the prospect of being parents. Of course, there was the fact that their coworkers still didn't know about the relationship that could have resulted in a baby. That probably added to it, he reasoned, and his worries about what they would think weren't helping.

They could get married, he thought, and buy a house. The apartment they shared didn't have room for a baby, and the thought of a home with Sara was greatly appealing. It could work, he thought, because they loved each other and would treasure any child that resulted from that love.

But god, the waiting was driving him insane!

Did he want a baby? Yes…no…the very thought was so tumultuous in nature it bordered on insane!

Today was as good a day as any other to start a family. Trying to soothe his frazzled nerves he went through the list again.

He loved Sara, a plus. He wanted kids, another plus. This might make their relationship suffer, a negative. They weren't married, another negative. But being married didn't really make a difference; it was just for the sake of appearances.

_Oh, screw it_, he thought. Did he _want_ Sara to be pregnant? At the thought that she was indeed carrying his child his chest tightened and his stomach felt like it was tied into a thousand knots. But that was just excitement, just nervousness, all of which were normal feelings. And if she wasn't? His heart sank and he felt somehow alone. So, he continued, logically he wanted her to be.

But it wasn't as if they had any choice in the matter.

It was less than an hour until she returned, her key sliding into the lock with a soft click. Nick, in his customary position at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, regarded her coolly, noting the small bag she clutched to her chest. "Pharmacy, huh?"

She raised her gaze to him warily, heartsick and ashamed. Her voice was quiet, so quiet he had to strain to hear her, and yet it seemed so loud in their apartment. "Yeah."

"Pregnancy test?"

A few tears he hadn't noticed that were welling up in Sara's brown eyes crested her cheek and traced a cold path, falling from her chin and plinking sadly on the wooden floor. "No," she whispered, "emergency contraceptive."

He reeled. Of course, Sara was a strong woman who knew what she wanted, and not very high on her current list was a child. But it still felt like a slap in the face or a scalding burn, white-hot and washing over him, all at once cold and searing. The wind had been knocked from his chest and he wheezed, "Emergency…emergency what?"

She straightened her shoulders, tall and regal and totally untouchable. Closed off, isolated, the Sara that was brilliant scientist first and lover second. The Sara he disliked seeing, knowing that there was so much more underneath her surface. Sara was delicate, fragile, but within her very bones there was steel, cold, rigid, strong. But how he hated it when that steel came to the surface!

"Emergency contraceptive," she repeated, her voice laced with agonizing slowness, each syllable distinct, each word as final as a cannon shot, as a gavel at the sentencing hearing, as the rope slipping through the executioner's hands and the fall of the guillotine's blade. There was to be no compromise, no arguments, no anger, no feeling.

And not feeling was the hardest.

So he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. Sitting back down he buried his hands in his hair and stared, unblinking, at the surface of the tabletop, at the slow trail of effervescent steam that twined lazily through the air, slowly leaving its birthplace, the womb of the coffee cup. He sat and breathed, not knowing that Sara still stood at the door, feeling all at once a stranger in her own home, ashamed and guilty and not really knowing why.

Her footfalls were soft when she left him, heading towards the bathroom with slow assuredness. And he waited, unmoving, unthinking, and yet not unfeeling as the tears slowly dripped into his coffee cup.

No baby, no house, no marriage, no suburbanite bliss.

She was trembling when she emerged from the bathroom, her pale arms like sticks as she wrapped them around her rib cage. The unknown emotion draped her like a cloak, like a smothering blanket. It was all over her. It was in her salty tears, in the clatter as she dropped the empty foil packet that had once held the pill to the tile, in the sobs that racked her as she gripped him, tears quickly soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

"Oh, Sar," he murmured into her hair, feeling her heart beating wildly against his own, unable to be angry, to blame, to hate when she was so fragile, when the wrong word could break her. "Sara…"

Was she hurt, relieved? He didn't know, was scared to know. And because he would rather not know than be forced to accept that it was a possibility that she didn't want kids, ever, he continued to hold her.

When they drew apart Sara gave him a tight-lipped smile, though its miniscule warmth didn't reach her eyes. He suspected it to be false, but even so he couldn't say that her current behaviors weren't just relief mixed with anxiety. He reached out a hand, to touch her arm, to make sure she was real, but she drew away, shrugging her sweater higher up on her shoulders, closing herself off. He let his outstretched hand drop to his side, curling and uncurling as if to give evidence to the tumult that raged within.

There was sadness in them, here in their shared apartment. Sadness and an emptiness that had never seemed to be empty before.

-

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- 

**A/N**: And now, the bad news (after an angst-ridden chapter). I'm going to be gone for three weeks, first on a houseboat in Arkansas, and then at Duke University. If I have time I'll update, but I doubt there will be the opportunity.

Anyway, the next chapter is entitled "Altercation."


	5. Altercation

**A/N**: Ok, this chapter is an R, folks, for sexual activities later in the chapter. And, to clear things up for some of the reviewers, an emergency contraceptive, also known as the "morning after pill" can prevent a fertilized egg from attaching to the uterus wall, i.e. stopping a pregnancy. However, this can only occur if the pill is taken quickly after intercourse.

**"Altercation"**

It still wasn't that easy to accept. Logically, the possibility of pregnancy had only existed for a short while, so it should have seemed…normal for Sara to not be. It should be familiar, right somehow. But it wasn't.

Sara seemed to have become even more enigmatic, even more isolated, in the two weeks since the possibility had been ended. She strayed from his touch, cold and distant. In the few times he had endeavored to take their physical contact past chaste kissing, she had gasped as if she were drowning and, with about as much subtlety and grace as an elephant in a clown costume, escaped from his grasp like an actress bowing out. It was frustrating, but he understood.

She thought it was her fault. She was guilty. He knew it on Monday morning, when he woke up to her soft crying. She had her back to him, curled up into a little knot of brown hair, smooth flesh and cotton pajamas. She was weeping, trembling, wrapped around her stomach with her arms pressed against it. Babies were a natural thing and a natural result of unprotected sex. So, perhaps she _had_ wanted the baby. Perhaps she was hurting. In fact, he was sure of it. But then why did she avoid his touch? Why did she refuse comfort? Was there anyone else who could understand?

He almost reached out, almost touched her shoulder blade, the bone barely covered by skin that protruded from her otherwise flat back. He almost did, but couldn't bring himself to do so. There was some cadence in her sobs that let him know that Sara's anguish, whether heard by a family member, a coworker, or even a lover, was to be kept private. So he contented himself with logging it away, to gauging her sadness and emptiness, biding his time until he knew the dam would break.

And break it did, the very next day. Unfortunately, this particular event happened at work, in the midst of a meeting. Sara was seated across from him, picking absentmindedly at a loose seam in her sweater, when Catherine's sometimes-critical gaze flashed to the brunette. "Sara," she began sharply, "you're too quiet. We've got cases to solve, criminals to put away, and we don't have time for sulking. You've got to let private trauma stay at home, it has no place at work."

Nick couldn't bring himself to be angry with Catherine, since she was his superior and friend. However, though the blonde often thought it her job to counsel Grissom on his lack of politic, the woman herself wasn't that great at it, especially when it involved Sara. Ah, Sara, who was displaying quite an uncharacteristic response to Catherine's words.

She was crying.

There was stunned silence in the break room, broken only by Sara's quiet sniffles before she made a hasty exit. Catherine's blue eyes widened in response, making a quick, curious pass around the table. "Uh…" she said, "what did I do?"

It was with a small shake of his head that Nick left; deciding now was not the time to reveal his relationship with Sara, nor the circumstances that had brought about her sadness.

She was in the locker room, staring blankly as she opened and closed the door to her locker slowly, seemingly without purpose. He hugged the walls and entered slowly. Sara heard him anyway, or perhaps sensed his presence, and turned. Taking two steps before breaking into a run, she launched herself into Nick's open arms, wrapping her own around him. "Oh, Nick," she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I've been so cold, but it's like I don't even know what's going on in my own head, especially since the whole EC thing and, and…"

She trailed off, shaking her head against his chest, some unnamed emotion in her voice. In the recesses of his mind, Nick wondered what that emotion was.

It was to be revealed as she gave a hiccupping sob, her lips moving against his shirt, against his skin. "Nick, I don't know _what_ I'm supposed to feel! Babies…they complicate things and we weren't ready for it. But," another hiccup, "but in a part of me it hurts, Nicky, oh it hurts so bad…"

Speech became impossible as she continued to cry, stilling only when he began to as well, comforted by the fact that he felt it too. He understood the mix of emotions, the tumult that was indescribable.

Life has many paths and it seemed that they had passed this fork relatively unscathed. The recovery would not be quick or easy, but as she wrapped her arms around his middle, crying in the locker room, they both knew that it would be okay. Eventually, it would be okay.

**One Month Later**

It was hard, fast and almost animalistic. It was seemingly violent, the sound of skin on skin, her fingernails digging savagely into the door frame, desperate for a hold as he took her from behind, spreading her legs apart with his knee, his chest against her back and her forehead resting against the cool plaster of the wall. She bit her lip as he thrust, giving a little cry as the sheer force shook her body and she felt as if she were about to crumble into a million pieces. He was brazen in his lust and desire, one arm wrapped securely about her stomach, tightening rhythmically to force her hips back against his and the other playing rather absentmindedly with her breasts.

It was almost unexpected when she came, all her muscles contracting, splinters driven underneath her nails as she clenched her fingers against the wood. Crying out his name she forced herself back, pressing her palms against the wall and pushing, her skin against his being the catalyst to his own release.

It was too savage, too fierce, too loveless and angry.

And she savored every moment of it.

He slipped from her slowly, receding like the tides, her wantonness already rising again and clamoring for more of him. She crumbled as if she were boneless to her knees, forehead once more pressed against the wall as she took heaving breaths, reeling from the passion between them.

"Nick…" she panted, "sweet lord…Nick…"

He was beside her, an arm tracing lazy circles over the small of her back as her skin slowly cooled, the intermingled sweat evaporating. His voice was hoarse, imbued with the ever-present ardor that he expressed only to her. "It was that good, huh?"

She gave a throaty laugh as she rolled onto her back, her spine pressed against the carpet and one arm giving a half-hearted swat at him. "You know it was, jackass."

Feigning a hurt expression he stooped over her form still lying on the carpet, shameless and making no attempt to hide his phallus. Sara gave him a wicked look as she extended one arm to grasp the offending appendage, pleased when it responded instantaneously. "You know," she mused, falsely oblivious to the semi-grimace on Nick's face, "I've never met someone with so much stamina."

She used a hard stroke of his shaft to punctuate that remark, wicked in her unabashed appreciation of his form. He responded with a drawn out groan, sweeping her up with both arms, one at her neck and the other at her waist. Pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to her neck he attempted to give rise to a name for the woman in his arms. "False ingénue," he muttered, "harlot, jezebel, Casanova…"

His path was assured, steps leading them straight to the bedroom where they both knew interesting activities awaited. However, that was to be cut short.

The doorbell rang and Sara let loose a loud string of angry curses, leaving red scratches on Nick's back as he set her down on her feet. "We could just ignore it," he proposed, the lust and obvious hopefulness in his eyes nearly making Sara agree. She even opened her mouth, ready to do so, but the doorbell rang again. "I'll get it," she sighed resignedly, "seeing as you have a hard-on a pit bull couldn't put marks in. Though I am happy to know I have that effect on you…"

He groaned and continued his trek to the bedroom as Sara walked naked into the den of their apartment. Her clothes were ruined, lying in a shredded heap in the kitchen where Nick had divested her of them in quite a savage manner. Stooping she pulled his pair of forsaken boxers on, finishing with his unbuttoned shirt draped haphazardly on the couch.

"One second," she called as she furiously buttoned up the dark red dress shirt belonging to the man currently in her bedroom. Pressing an eye to the peephole she hissed "shit!" at the sight of who it was that awaited her.

Grissom.

She was going to have to open the door to her boss dressed in her lover's clothes.

_No time like the present, I guess…_

Unlocking it in a sense of almost serenity brought about by the fact that what she was doing was totally insane, she gave him a falsely sincere smile. "Hi, Grissom."

It did not take long for him to assess her appearance. A quirk of an eyebrow belied his surprise. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"No," she lied, pushing away thoughts of the naked man in her bedroom.

"Are you sure," he questioned, "I mean, you _are_ in men's clothing…" He left the thought to hang in the air between them; not even giving rise to what they both knew was obvious.

"It's fine," she gritted out between clenched teeth, "now would you care to enlighten me on the cause of your visit?"

He refused to drop it, chiding her. "I hope you're being careful with whoever you're with, Sara."

Her fingers quickly formed a fist and she looked him straight in the eyes. Grissom had ceased being a love interest long ago; she only know realized how little of what she thought of her mentor was true.

"I'm being careful, Grissom." _Not that it's any of your concern_, she thought darkly.

"Oh, well I just stopped by to drop off some paperwork for today's case. I know you were planning on filling them out later, but the solve rate is being factored tomorrow and Ecklie wants all paperwork turned in ASAP. Try to have them on my desk by 8:00."

"Done," she hissed with more force than she mean to use, and yet still nearly triumphant at the almost hurt on her supervisor's face. "They'll be there as soon as I clock in."

He lingered, annoyingly aware of what she wanted and what he refused to do. "I guess I'll see you at work."

"Yes, now I really must get back to…to what I was doing. I'll see you soon"

Her door slammed and Gil Grissom knew that the heart had never taken hold of had already been claimed.

* * *

**A/N**: Now, more bad news. I know you're probably all tired of me leaving, but I'm going to be Houston for the weekend, so updates will be slowed. Also, if anyone has any ideas for where they want the story to go, I would love to hear them. Input inspires me and it's always welcome!

Rynn


	6. Identification

"**Identification"**

"Come on, Sunshine, wake up."

Nick traced his index finger across Sara's shoulder, stopping and gripping it gently, trying to get her to get up. In truth, before they were together Sara was lucky to get more than five hours of sleep a night. A regular sex life can work wonders, he thought as she rolled towards his touch, seeking contact even in sleep. Slowly, slowly, her brown eyes opened, squinting at light's sudden intrusion. "I like it when you call me that," she murmured quietly, draping an arm across his chest in an effort to make him join her on the bed.

"Really? I do seem to remember that you smacked Greg when he did."

She had closed her eyes again but cracked one open at his words. "You're different."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, the sex with Greg wasn't as good."

Nick shot up, looming over Sara who had been sprawled across the mattress by his sudden movement. "You didn't-"

She stretched lazily, extending her arms and arching away from the sheets. "Of course not," she responded with a sigh, "I just like appealing to your masculine territorial instincts."

"If Sanders even looks at you, I'll rip him apart."

Rolling onto her stomach Sara replied, "Start with the tongue. No more stupid nicknames or pickup lines."

Nick stooped, grasping Sara by the hips and throwing her over one shoulder as he walked towards the kitchen. "As you wish."

The phone was ringing…very, very loudly. Sara winced, pressing her palms against Nick's chest and pushing herself off of him. "So much for Gone with the Wind," she muttered, watching the credits slowly scroll across the TV screen. She hadn't intended to fall asleep; though the length of the movie and Nick's semi-short intention span had guaranteed that physical contact would take precedence in their evening. She had been right. Twice.

The identity of the caller was a mystery to her, even as she reached the phone. Her coworkers always called via cellular telephone and it wasn't as if Sara's social life extended very far beyond the lab. Blearily, she picked the receiver up mid-ring and said, 'hello?"

"Hi, is Nick there?" The voice was female, slightly inquisitive, as if they had not expected for Sara to answer the phone. The first prickles of paranoia started immediately, crawling up Sara's spine. Another woman? Not that she would ever suspect such behavior from Nick, but once a woman had been cheated on it was hard not to be suspicious. The voice of the caller sounded relatively aged, though it wasn't a concrete conclusion.

Sara's pause must have slightly bothered the caller, because she began to ramble. "Oh, well I thought I had the right number. I called his old apartment and they said he had moved here. This is also the home address listed at his work…"

"He's here, just asleep. Would you like me to wake him up?"

The still unidentified caller seemed apologetic, "no, no, that's alright. I just realized I forgot to introduce myself, since I don't think we've met before. I'm Jillian Stokes, Nick's mother."

Sara's posture immediately straightened as an adrenaline rush entered her system. Nick's parents didn't know that he had moved in with her, didn't know about 'them', and Sara had no idea if they would be receptive to the idea of their youngest son dating her. Also, it would probably be best if it was Nick that broke the news. Though, the aforementioned male was still asleep, and happily so.

"Err…" she supplied, "actually, Mrs. Stokes, we have met before. I'm Sara Sidle and I work with Nick at the crime lab. I spoke with you at Desert Palm Hospital."

Jillian's voice brightened considerably, 'Oh yes, I recall. And how are you, Sara?"

"Well, thank you, and yourself?" Keep it moving, Sidle, she thought, try and keep it simple.

"I'm fine," responded Jillian, her Texan accent creeping in the way she said 'I'm'. To Sara's ears, it sounded like 'Ah'm'. (A/N: _I'm a Texan, born 'n raised, and I do have an accent. Though, I kinda' like it.)_

The kindness in Nick's mother's voice made guilt prick at Sara's skin. Keeping her relationship with Nick a secret from coworkers was relatively easy, seeing as disagreements had occurred between them before. But Jillian Stokes had been nothing but kind to her, nothing but trusting, and keeping a secret like this from her seemed wrong.

"Um, Mrs. Stokes, I thought you should know. Nick and I are," she continued, taking a deep breath, "seeingeachother!" The words came out so fast, in a landslide of syllables that were hardly recognizable.

"I- I mean," she fumbled, flustered and trying really hard to still her breathing, "Um, Nick and I are…seeing each other. We actually live together. I know we should have told you about 'us' before, but you're actually the first person to know…" Now it was Sara's turn to ramble, overcompensating for her guilt. "We've been together for about nine months now. I'm really sorry…"

There was silence on the other end and Sara tensed. When Jillian responded, her voice wasn't actually angry, just surprised. "Sara, why are you apologizing? It's quite all right. I suspected Nick had a new girlfriend, and I knew he had feelings for you…"

"Wha- what?"

"At Desert Palm, Nick wanted to see you as soon as we finished speaking to him. He hadn't even seen anyone else from your lab. Don't forget, Sara, that I've raised quite a few children in my time, and I know when one of them has a love interest."

Sara was reeling. Nick's mother wasn't angry, wasn't even surprised! She was the only person who knew about them, and she was taking the news quite well. Now, if only Sara could be as calm.

"Well, just tell Nick that I called, please. It was really nice talking to you, Sara, and I'm happy for the two of you. Though," she continued, and Sara could hear Jillian's smile on the other end of the phone, "don't think I won't have some choice words for him for keeping a secret from his mother. Bye, Sara."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Stokes."

"Jillian will do fine, dear."

That was a bit surprising. Jillian had only met Sara face-to-face once, and yet she was completely open and welcoming. She had no reason to trust Sara, to even be polite, and yet she was. Sara's own mother had always insisted on being called 'mother,' not 'mom' or 'mommy.' Sara's mother had never been so kind. Jealously flared in her chest, envy of the compassion in Nick's family, of the closeness that she never had.

"Alright then, goodbye, Jillian."

"Bye." There was a click, and the line was dead. Sara slowly set the phone down, breathing deep, still shaken from a relatively simple encounter. Of course, Jillian was the first person she had told, so it made sense to be slightly freaked out. Walking over to the couch, upon which Nick was still sleeping, she wormed her way in between her boyfriend and the couch. His lazily brought one arm up, curling around her shoulders. A few moments passed and Sara drifted back to sleep. Finally he inquired, his voice husky with sleep, "Who was it on the phone?"

"Mmm…your mom."

He stirred. "Really?"

"Yeah. I told her about us."

His lips curved into a smile, knowing that if Sara told someone, whether it was his mom or the pizza guy, it meant she was finally feeling comfortable in their relationship. "And how did she react?"

"Better than expected. Now stop talking, Nick. Some of us didn't sleep the entire time your mom was on the phone."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against her cheek. "Yes ma'm."


End file.
